Nice Ta Mole Ya
by Nicholas de Vilance
Summary: //MurphConn// I mean meet ya!...Connor often finds himself distracted by Murphy's little beauty mark. This road trip is just another of those incidences //slash, twincest. Challenge fic//
1. Connor's Fetish

Nicholas: Ah, here is another challenge of Becki's creation and my execution. I like this one, but I have this strange feeling that it didn't fulfill the requisites of the challenge...I hope it did, anyway. Connor's so funny...

Disclaimer: Don't own it, don't sue me.

Rating: M...language...sexual content/reference

* * *

There's a lot o' things that set me apart from me brother. Our hair is different shades. I seem ta have a permanent darkness to my skin while he can't tan past fair. An' then there is that one little natural decoration on his face that I can't help but adore. His beauty mark—as it sits so precariously on the left side of his upper lip—just seems ta scream out "I'm fuckin' cute, praise me!" Yes, I mean the mole. I think it's a fuckin' birthmark, but I love it ta bits. Wish I had a sexy birthmark…No, I just gotta dark spot on me arse!

Anyway, back ta what I was goin' on about in the first place. There's a lot o' things that set me apart from me brother. Fer instance, if I were lost while driving 'cross the fuckin' country, I'd stop an' ask fer directions. Murphy…not so much.

"Pull over, Murph."

"I en't pullin' over, jack ass. I know exactly where we're goin'."

"Well o' course ya know where we're goin', r'else I wouldn't let ya drive! _I_ know where we're tryin' ta get, ya just don't know how ta fuckin' get there." He looked sideways at me, takin' his attention away from the empty, road in front of us.

Ever found yerself distracted when yer talkin' ta someone? As much as ya want ta pay attention ta what their sayin', ya can't take yer eyes off a certain thing about them. Guys know what I'm talkin' about, whenever they speak ta a woman with a cup-size bigger than "B." Whenever I'm talkin' ta Murphy, it takes a bit more self-control ta keep my eyes off his mouth than ya'd think.

The way his tongue flicks just over his upper lip for a split second b'fore he even says anythin'. Then he starts ta talk an' it's like a dance. An' there's always that little mole tucked away in the crease just under his cheek that, as it moves, makes my mind wander slightly. I start ta think about what it must be like ta have a mole, an' then I start ta remember what it feels like ta have his under me tongue. Then o' course I think about the situation that requires my tongue on his skin an' it makes my stomach jump with delight fer a moment an' my blood rush straight South.

It probably seems strange, right? It's a bit hard fer ye ta understand why I love it so much. In fact, I'm not even sure sometimes whether I understand or I'm kiddin' meself. Whatever way, I love that mole so much fer the simple fact that it's there on me brother's face makin' him different from all the rest. Even from me.

"Were ya listenin' ta me at all just then?" His raised voice snapped me outta me thoughts. I shrugged awkwardly, feelin' that familiar heat in my face bein' that he'd once more caught me starin'. "Well, Jesus fuckin' Christ! Yer the one complainin' about my navigational skills in the first place. The least ya could do is listen ta me tell ya ta piss off."

I smiled lightly an' turned ta look out the windshield at the steadily darkenin' evenin' in the Midwest terrain about us. "Yeah, but where would be the fun in that?" I felt him reach over an' push me shoulder playfully. "So when're ya gonna admit ya got us lost in the middle o' nowhere?"

"Gimme a few more miles," He muttered, leanin' on his hand on the driver's side door.

"Alright then, but do it quick, we're runnin' outta gas."

"Oh shite, yer right…" His face fell, an' even tho' I couldn't see the fuckin' mole as he looked straight forward out the windshield ta make sure we didn't run off the road, I know exactly what it would've looked like.

"Am I? I'm right? This is just damned amazin'!" I was only slightly worried about our current predicament. If we had ta stop, someone was bound ta pass by sooner er later an' we had an ice chest o' beers and sandwiches, we were set!

"Shut the fuck up! I mean about the gas thing. I still think I know where I'm goin'."

"I'm sorry ya lie ta yerself like that." I couldn't help but laugh at him when he swatted at my head. I barely dodged that one this time; damn he's gettin' fast!

--

Silence. Sometimes it's the sweetest fuckin' thing ta hear. 'Specially when the only reason there's silence is 'cause the other person is not wantin' ta admit defeat. So I just sat there, with my arms crossed over me chest, feelin' damn good about meself, while Murphy pulled off ta the side o' the road. It was too dark ta see much farther than the ground that the headlights showed. We were runnin' on empty.

Awkwardly, Murphy scratched his nose, just next ta the mole I love so much. A bit of a smirk tugged at the corner o' his mouth. "Okay…" he began quietly, obviously already regrettin' his next words, "we're lost." I could tell it hurt his pride ta say it, so I tried not ta rub it in too bad.

I think I managed a good sneer that put the cherry on top of all that is asshole-ism. "Thank ye," I said with a resoundin' "I told ya so" air.

"So what d'we do now?"

An excellent question, isn't it? I suppose we could take our duffle bags and ice chest outta the trunk and trek it backward 'till we get ta that last station we saw—about sixty miles in the direction o'…I have absolutely no idea. Or not… "I have an idea."

"O goodie." Fuckin' sarcastic monkey.

"Shut the fuck up, ya git." He turned towards me with a grin that officially crowned him as king o' the shit-eaters. An' God damn if his mole didn't seem ta be hidin' as the crease on his face deepened as it always did when he smiled. I was distracted again.

I acted on me impulse this time—bein' that I had the option without the danger o' causin' an accident. I gripped his chin lightly an' kissed his upper lip. Then I licked just so softly up to that little, dark bump that I adore so much. Maybe it's the way it feels under my tongue…it's a bit adictin'. Well, I acted on _one_ impulse.

What I really wanted ta do was fuck him. An' no, I don' mean _make love _ta him—that's fer nights at home in a bed. I wanted ta fuck him 'till he screamed me name with every thrust. His mole makes me think things like that. Is that weird? I think that's weird.

"What was yer idea?" Murphy had a genuine curiosity now, an' I knew exactly why. I know very well that he is fully aware o' my innocent, little fetish. "Don' say walk it."

"O Christ no!" I put my lips over the tiny bulge in his skin an' let the little hairs o' his unshaved mustache scratch me slightly. "I get the blankets, ye get the beer an' we meet up on the roof o' the car."

"One o' yer better plans."

"T'fuck's that s'posed ta mean?"

His chuckle wrapped around me in the form o' his hand claspin' on me shoulder and pullin' me closer, ever so much closer. My tongue touched his as they had done many times b'fore an' I once more felt that rush as tho' it were the first time. My unoccupied hand automatically went ta me jeans where a very not-so-subtle lump was formin' that made my pants tight. Yeah, I get horny off of a fuckin' mole, but only Murphy's.

"Okay," he said, his mouth just a half-inch away from mine. "Bein' that we're gonna be here fer tanight, let's get settled in. Ye get the beer, _I'll_ get the blankets."

"What-the-fuck-ever!" I grabbed him this time, both hands on his shoulders pullin' him against me. I kissed him in various places—mostly my most favorite spot on his face—an' completely ignored that we had somethin' ta do.

--

When we finally did get around ta gettin' out stuff outta the trunk, I found somethin' very interestin' that might be considered as somethin' else that sets me apart from me brother. I unburied it from the confines o' Murphy's open duffle bag an' smiled. It took him a few seconds ta notice. When he did he glared at me.

"Really Murphy, ya bring this thing wherever ya go."

"I don' wanna hear it, hand it over!" He reached for his precious, stuffed rabbit. O' course, I stepped back an' held the toy just outta his reach. "Conn, don' fuck with me!"

I put the bunny in front o' me an' waved it's little fabric paw at me brother. "'Oi, Murphy. Come play with me!'" He gave me a deadly glare an' I admit I wasn't lookin' at anythin' that makes a facial expression a glare. His beauty mark had all o' my attention.

"I'm not playin' around, Connor. Give over the fuckin' doll!"

"Now that's not a nice way o' talkin' bout yer dear little Mr. Bunny-kinnsm now is it? C'mon an' get it if ya can?"

"Is that a challenge?"

"Has ta be challengin' fer it ta be a challenge." He sneered unhappily an' reached out ta grab Mr. Bunny-kinns. I pulled it outta his reach once more an' stepped back. "See? What'd I say?"

"I'll make ya eat yer words, boy. I've done it b'fore."

"'Boy' he says! 'Boy!' I'll make ya eat somethin' else, but I don' think that talk's appropriate fer childhood memorabilia." I hit the last straw when I dangled the rabbit just a bit too close to his face from him not ta react.

The next thing I knew, I was runnin' fer me life inta the middle o' nowhere that was call the Midwest. It's really hot at night 'round here, so I lost my breath quickly. Apparently he didn't. I hit the ground, not very gently at al, mind ya, with all o' Murphy's mass tumblin' down on top o' me. Outta impluse, I immediately hugged the dear stuffed animal ta me chest so Murphy couldn't get it. Brotherly fights are the funnest thing, ya know? Except that they hurt.

"Ow!" I only managed ta breathe out that exclamation. Then I felt a fist slam inta me side. "Ya little bastard!"

"Gimme the bunny!"

"Not on yer life!"

In the midst o' twistin' an' hittin' that was just as confusin' as stoichiometry was in Sophomore year, he had me on my side an' was tryin' ta wrench my arms open. Not happenin'! Like he could win _that_ easily. "OW, ya mother fucker!" He _bit_ me! "Fine, take yer fuckin' thing!"

He _bit_ me on the fuckin' arm! I heard him snicker victoriously as he grabbed that stupid bag o' fluff. Still sittin' on me, he looked down with a grin. "See? This is why ya don' fuck with me, _boy_."

I squirmed awkwardly an' finally lay on me back—with a nice amount o' rocks an' shite stickin' inta me back. I'm not sayin' me brother's bigger'n he should be, but Jesus fuckin' Christ he's heavy. "I still have no idea who ya think ya have the right ta call boy," I began lightly; I rubbed the sore spot on me arm, "'Least I en't as tiny as ye."

"'Tiny,' ya say?" I began ta get a bit nervous when my tauntin' did nothin' ta phase him. He kept on smirkin'. God damned that fuckin' smirk with that mole. I wasn't lookin' in his eyes again an' he noticed. Oh-so-fuckin'-coy, he leaned forward on me chest. "Connor let's examine this situation, shall we?"

"I'd rather not—"

The mole inched it's way upwards as his shit-eatin' grin stretched his face. "Ya rely on yer little off comments that're blatant attempts ta compensate fer somethin'. Then, whenever I reply, ya don' even bother ta look away from this." He pointed out that little black mark on his lip an' the motion was just too sexy with that smirk. "What I don' get is what's so great about it that it makes ya harder'n a steel pipe."

I admit with a bit o' grudgin', I blushed then. Even in the little bit o' light that was comin' from the car's headlights, I know Murphy saw it. "I have another idea."

"No changin' the subject."

"Changin' it anyway! Ye get the fuck offa me an' I go back over ta the car, drink half the beer we brought an' fall inta a drunken stupor so's I don' remember ya just said that."

His eyebrows raised just slightly, but he didn't get off. "Or I could take total advantage o' yer little fetish an' _bend_ ya ta my will."

"S'that a literal bend?"

"Yep."

"I'm strangely comfortable with that."


	2. Murphy's Fixations

Sure, I admit that there _is_ a lot that sets me apart from me twin. I don' have one little thing that I can lose my focus on pertainin' ta Connor. I have three. Sorry, but I can't find absolute interest in somethin'—a mole, fer instance ('cept Connor doesn't have one)—and keep it. Isn't that called ADD er somethin'? Anyway, that en't the point. Point is, Connor has his little fetish an' I have three.

--

**Voice**

Connor doesn't need to be a good negotiator—even though he is. There's hardly a person o' God's creation that he wouldn't be able to convince that the sky is "a nice shade o' red taday." I swear, he should be a fuckin' lawyer. Well…without the "fuckin'" part unless that has ta do with me. Anyway, I'm gonna pretend I didn't write that an' go on. It's amazin' ta watch an' listen ta Connor on a tangent.

"Seriously, Murph," he went on, heftin' the ice chest onta his shoulder—he'd made _me_ carry both duffle bags! "Ever'yone has his own ideas and way o' thinkin'. Ever heard the sayin' 'one man's trash is another man's treasure'?"

"I thought that was talkin' about the Prince an' the Pauper."

"It can be seen that way…Which is exactly my point! The way I know things can be different than the way ye see it. Take color fer instance. We are all taught that blue is blue because…"

And, o' course, I humor him. "'Cause it's blue?"

"Exactly. Blue is blue. _Loft_ is _loft_. _Vert_ is _vert_, an' shite like that, but when it boils down to it, it's all just reflected light. It all depends on how ya see it, how it enters yer eyes. So how do I know that when you say blue yer not seeing… what I think is red er somethin' like that?"

…I had no idea what the fuck…this is confusin' as Hell (I read the fuckin' Inferno an' that _is_ confusin')! "Yer makin' me head hurt, Conn! What yer sayin' is that…we believe what we do because o' relativity?"

"Well…not the way ya said that, but in a way…what we call somethin'—red er orange er aquamarine—is based on common law. It's the same argument with Man's Law versus God's Law."

Oh, no, not this again! I didn't want ta start in the philosophical meanin's o' right an' wrong. I love hearin' me brother talk—almost as much as _he_ loves hearin' himself talk, I'm sure—an' when he feels strongly about somethin' it's beautiful ta see him belt if out with some random person (he's done that quite a few times with Ma, actually). But right now, the heat was getting' ta me. I hate the fuckin' Mid West in the middle o' fuckin' summer. "Why're we out here?" Just ta start conversation—_safe_ conversation.

"'Cause _someone_ can't stop an' ask fer fuckin' directions."

--

**Face**

As we got settled in, I went straight ta the bathroom an' I don' wanna hear any shit from ya as ta what I was doin'—besides, yer just a reader, who needs ye when I got Connor? So I went straight ta the bathroom an' got myself off 'cause I really needed to. When I came back ta the main room of our motel room, I expected ta hear some quip from Conn about how long I'd been in there, but I got silence.

I looked around an' saw that he'd already stripped an' got ta bed. Well, that's just him, so anyway…

There's a little bit of a confession I have ta make, an' I don' need a priest. I have no idea how ta occupy me time when I'm not talkin' ta me brother (i.e. pissin' him off, fuckin' around). I tried searchin' the room fer the thermostat 'cause it was freezin' cold in that fuckin' room. I think it just felt that way 'cause I was still all sweat-soaked from the walk, but I did find the thermostat ta turn it up. Once that was done, I sat down an' got real bored, _real_ fast.

The problem was that I wasn't in the mood fer anythin'. I didn't want ta play solitaire with that damn deck o' cards we'd brought along. I didn't want a beer (frightenin' I know). I wasn't quite ta the point o' counting the hair on my arm, but I was gettin' there. The only thing I had this strange urge ta do was take out Mr. Bunny-kinns and hold him fer a while. I didn't, 'cause fer all I know, Connor's still awake an' waitin' fer me ta do just that. Speakin' o' Connor, I just got an idea.

I stood an' went over ta the bed where me brother was snoozin'. There's another o' my little infatuations with me brother. I love his face. Well, o' course I do, but it en't that simple. I love his face especially when he's sleepin' 'cause that's when he's not angry er happy er annoyed, he's just Connor—beautiful boy that he is. An' I can't help crawlin' inta bed beside him an' starin'.

I'm lucky that I have an obsession that's easily hidden. He never sees this little fetish 'cause it's necessary fer him ta be asleep. So I carefully lay down beside him, puttin' my hands on his chest an' lookin' up at his face. He didn't wake up at all.

Still…he wasn't quite right just then. There was somethin'…different. As I watched him, I saw him wince slightly an' wondered what that was about. He was probably dreamin'—the only time he slept so deeply was when he was dreamin'—but it was obviously not a good dream.

I found interest in the slight fear that took Connor's sleepin' face. It's a bit twisted and ironic, en't it? I'm not quite sure how to explain it, but the way that he suddenly seemed so terrified with whatever illusion plagued him gave me a sweet contrast ta the Conn I know an' debate with. It wasn't his peaceful face that was completely Connor, it was a contorted face that was innocently frightened. No matter what, it was my twin an' it was fuckin' beautiful.

He wined slightly in his sleep an' that's about when I thought to wake him up. My interest was only so perverse, an' now he looked like he was in pain. I didn't like that. I wriggled slightly an' held myself above him on me elbows as I kissed his taut lips.

Quickly, he opened his eyes, but I didn't let him go just yet. I swept my tongue across his teeth an' let myself lay slightly on top o' him. His eyebrow raised slightly an' he gave me a questionin' look when I broke the kiss an' just stared at him. "What's wrong?" he asked.

I laughed at him, much ta his confusion. "What's wrong with ye? Have a nightmare, luv?"

"Uh…aye." No more laughin' 'cause I felt him shakin' beneath me. I wanted ta know what it was about, but if I asked he'd laugh an' tell me not ta worry about it. I just waited fer him ta talk about it on his own.

It was about three minutes before he finally took a deep breath—still quiverin', but less so. "Ye were…ye were tryin' ta commit suicide, but I stopped ya, I…we fought over the stupid gun, but…ya got in the end an' shot me instead."

I could see it as clearly as he had, feel that same fear he was feelin'. It was nauseatin'. It was consumin'. It was pain an' horror an' it was only just a dream…just a dream—one that I didn't even have. Then the way that he hugged his arms around himself made me almost want to wince. "I would never," I assured him, 'cause I felt like I had to. It was half ta tell myself. "I would never do that."

"I know."

I smirked slightly, tryin' ta lighten the mood. "Then go back ta sleep so I can molest ya more."

There was a pitiful excuse fer a laugh that left Connor's mouth. He was tryin' ta ferget it, I could see that. "I don' think so."

"Should I try an' keep ya awake?"

Then he paused and looked straight at me. I bore witness ta poetry in motion just then. The fear an' pain that was in his eyes suddenly melted away ta be replaced by somethin' else, somethin' attractive. Somethin' that I found kept my attention long enough ta make my blood run warm, then hot. Fuck ADD, man. (Or then again, fuck Connor that'd be funner…or more fun, I don't fuckin' know.)

"Murphy will ya make me feel better?"

"I thought ya'd never ask."

This is my favorite part o' bedtime—has been since high school. I leaned down an' kissed him again, an' gently loosened his arms from around his chest. It took a bit o' coaxin', but I had him holdin' me quickly.

--

**Over-all Love**

Connor doesn't need me ta "make him feel better." He chooses ta have me over everyone else he could have—I doubt I'm the only one with this kind o' lust fer him. Still, he chooses me an' I'm so glad that he does, 'cause I'm the only one on this planet that will _love_ him like this.

An' this is my third an' final fixation. Just the simple fact that he loves me an' he says so in a way that is not lyin'—there's no way ta fake it with Connor. I started out kissin' him, but he soon pulled me down ta the bed an' pinned me there beneath him an' then _he_ was kissin' me. What a fantastic frenzy my brother is! The way he held me was precarious enough ta make me cling ta him, but I didn't register this at first. I could only think o' his kisses as they almost bit my flesh.

I thank God fer givin' me a brother like Connor. An' I thank Him also fer giving me a lover like Connor as well. Connor who can oh-so-easily make my skin burn in the most delightful way. Connor who can undress me without my help—it makes me a bit lazy, I admit. My brother who is the only one I let put my legs on his shoulders like that.

O, an' the things he says in my ear as he's doin' all that, things that no one but Connor can think of. Things that make me (dare I say) harder than I was b'fore. Things that make me barely notice what's goin' on until he's suddenly inside o' me an' I'm whinin' inta his hair, overwhelmed by the feelin'. It doesn't hurt as much as the first time had, but the warmth an' the fact that it was Connor was enough ta make my mind spin ev'ry time.

"Murph," he mutters as he's holdin' me hips tightly.

I can barely hear him, my senses dulled as he thrust inta me. It takes his tongue on my chest ta make me open my eyes again. An' there's his face, all passion an' fire an'…damn he's sexy when he's like that. It's like when he's sleepin': this is completely Connor, just in a different way. Then there's his voice.

"Murph, I love ya…" The pain an' fireworks of another thrust. "This feelin'…this is me an' ye." His voice is getting' quieter an' my throat let out a moan of it's own accord. "I swear ta God, no one feels ya like I do."

Then there's his love that makes another warm rush pour over me like hot water. I kept my eyes open this time as he set up a steady rhythm, just so I could watch his face change. God, I'm lucky that I know such a beautiful thing loves me.

He leaned down an' kissed my face, right on that little black mole an' I couldn't help but smile.

* * *

Nicholas: Part two of Becki's challenge. Enjoy the steamyness I managed to cook up. And don't forget to review!!


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